Beware of these children's books this Christmas

Christmas is just about here, Hanukkah just passed, gifts are flying back and forth. But when we get right down to it, these holidays — the non-religious aspect, anyway — are mostly for one group of people: Our children. Nothing quite like seeing the joy on Junior’s face when he tears open the wrapping paper to find a Transformer, or when your little girl beams while grasping her first teddy bear.

And while the toys are wonderful, we should also remember to pepper the holiday season with other, more cerebral gifts. After all, little kids do love books, and we should do everything we can to foster their continued love for them.

I know one of my favorite times of the day is bedtime for my three-year-old. We cuddle up in his bed and I read him some stories before we turn off the lights.

It’s a parent-child tradition that’s been going on since the dawn of speech. A child, tired from a long day, snuggles into their mom or dad and learns, once and for all, that if a humanoid adult cat knocks on your door while your mother is out, by all means, let that humanoid cat into your home.

Seriously: Some of these so-called kid’s books are not exactly setting the best examples for our children. Keep this in mind as you’re finishing up your Christmas wrapping. You may want to return some of the following:

“The Cat in the Hat” by Dr. Seuss: Listen, don’t get me wrong, I love Dr. Suess books, and have yet to find one I don’t enjoy reading aloud. And while “The Cat in the Hat” is a fun read, the fact remains: Stranger danger, y’all. You just don’t let strangers into your home, especially, as noted earlier, humanoid cats. Especially humanoid cats. You lock the door and you call 911 if a humanoid cat knocks on your door. Plus, can someone call child protective services? Sally and her brother are clearly too young to be left home alone.

Any “Curious George” book: I like Curious George, such an impish little chimp, but within the context of real life, “curious” is just cover for “destructive little (bleep).”

“The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein: Well, this book I just hate. Hate. Pure, 100 percent, hate. I read it to my son and promptly threw it into the hallway. “That’s a crap book,” I told him. Why? Because it’s supposed to show how you should share and not be selfish, or else you’ll end up old and alone like the guy in the story. You should “give,” like the tree. But look at what happens to the “giving” tree. It ends up a stump because it gave and gave and gave some more. And while I don’t want my boy to end up old and alone, I also do not want my boy to grow up and become a stump. There’s a happy medium, Shel. How about “The I’ll Give You Some Stuff, a Branch Here and There, But Anything Else, Forget It, Get a Job Tree.”

“Green Eggs and Ham” by Dr. Seuss: Yep, we’re back to the good doctor. Sorry. Now granted, the moral here is a good one, and I agree with it: Try it, you might like it. That said, I’m guessing the eggs in question, being that they are green, are unfit for human consumption. Just because “trying” is a good thing does not mean “poisoning oneself for the sake of variety” is a good thing.

“Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch: Are you familiar with this one? Oh gracious. Basically, a boy is born, and his mom rocks him to sleep, saying over and over, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.” Fair enough, fine, OK. But the boy gets older, things get a little creepier, and by the end of the book, the script is flipped and it’s the elderly mother sitting on her adult son’s lap, with the adult son saying, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my Mommy you’ll be.” Gack. And then … the mother dies. Double gack. At best, this is a lousy Hallmark card, at worst — and it is worst — this is not a good children’s book.

You know what? Now that I think about it, maybe we should stay away from non-holiday related books right now. Too much of a minefield. Let’s just all get our kids a flimsy paperback copy of, oh, I don’t know. Frosty the Snowman. Simple, fun, you can sing to it. “Frosty the Snowman, was a jolly happy soul. With a corncob pipe and a …” oh man. Frosty smokes. This is not working out. By the time we’re done here, our kids are going to be smoking, eating bad eggs and giving everything they own to a talking cat. We’re doomed. Merry Christmas. I’m sticking with the Transformers.